


when did we become a thing?

by thefaultinourships



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, and 9 months is enough time for me to procreate my feelings, enjoy, i just have a lot of shameless feels, into some shitty writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:48:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefaultinourships/pseuds/thefaultinourships
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey can’t remember when ‘we’ became a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when did we become a thing?

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic for this fandom. hopefully it's not terrible. come say hi to me on tumblr (under the same name).

**dinner.**  
  
“So, Mickey, will you be gracing us with your presence at dinner tonight?” the Gallagher brother inquired.  
  
“Might wanna check that lip, Lip,” Mickey threw back. “But yeah, we’ll be there.”  
  
“We?”  
  
Mickey paused, one arm in the sleeve of his jacket. “What?”  
  
“You said we-”  
  
“The fuck you telling me what I said for?” Mickey bit back.  
  
“Nothing, no reason. Just wondering who ‘we’ might be.”  
  
“Me and the fucking Ghandi. Who the fuck do you think?”  
  
“Well, I know Ian’s capable of getting himself home from work in time for dinner without your help, so unless you were planning on visiting and hitching a ride back with him then-”  
  
“Not that it’s any of your damn business, but yeah, I am.” At Lip’s knowing look, Mickey added, “Someone’s gotta keep people from groping your brother’s ass all day.”  
  
“Oh, you mean you’re boyfr-”  
  
“Now seems like a good time to tell you that I know where you keep all your fucking knives,” Mickey yelled on his way out the door.  
  
“See you guys later,” Carl, who had just come down the steps, yelled after him.  
  
 **the club.**  
  
Not that he would ever admit it, but once he got over the too loud music, the sweaty bodies, the press of strangers’ skin, the propositions for sex, and the arsenal of aged hands constantly reaching out to grab at Ian’s dick, Mickey could admit, he quite liked the club.  
  
The sweat reminded him of sex, strangers’ skin was easy to forget when he had Ian’s against his, and he could just as easily break all and any hands that wandered too close to the aforementioned boy.  
  
“Enjoying the view?”  
  
Mickey looked up only to blinded by silver, sparkly material stretched tight over a fit ass. Looking past the offensive body part, Mickey could see Ian smirking down at him. “Always,” he replied, taking a swig of his drink.  
  
Ian just turned to promptly shake his glittery ass in his direction. “Spank me,” he called over his shoulder.  
  
“Fuck you,” Mickey called back, flipping the bird for emphasis. It was useless though, because he couldn’t stop from smiling.  
  
A few more minutes of Ian dancing his way along the counter tops and Mickey glaring at what seemed to be anyone over the age of 45 passed before he heard someone shout Gallagher’s name. Smoothly hopping down from his current dance floor, Ian slung an arm around Mickey’s shoulder before looking at the younger man who had just addressed him.  
  
“What’s up, boss?”  
  
“Just wondering if you were coming to the after party tonight?” the man inquired. Mickey didn’t miss the fact that he was speaking to the taller boy only.  
  
Not missing a beat, Ian just pulled Mickey a touch closer and replied, “Count us in.”  
  
“We’ve got that dinner tonight,” Mickey reminded Ian quietly- or as quietly as he could in an overcrowded club.  
  
Turning to look at him, Ian touched his palm to his forehead. “Shit, totally forgot. Sorry, man,” he said, glancing at his boss.  
  
“No worries,” the man put a reassuring hand on Ian’s hip. “I’m sure the party will go on later than your dinner if you feel like swinging by afterwards,” the man suggested, still most definitely only talking to Ian.  
  
Mickey pointedly glared at his hand while Ian replied, “Maybe, we’ll see.”  
  
Ian’s boss just squeezed his hip before looking at Mickey and hastily retracting his hand. “Alright, then. See you around, or tomorrow?” At this point, he was definitely addressing both of them this time.  
  
Ian nodded. “We’ll see you,” he replied happily, giving a little wave as his boss turned to go.  
  
Mickey scoffed, turning Ian to face him. Immediately, Ian’s face lit up before ducking down to kiss him soundly on the lips before pulling back and grinning. “You’re jealous,” he pointed out.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Mickey pinched Ian’s side, making the other boy squirm. “Yeah, sure, tough guy.”  
  
Dancing out of reach, Ian just smiled but didn’t try to contradict him, which Mickey appreciated. “Shift’s almost over,” he said instead. “Let me go get my stuff.”  
  
Mickey nodded. “I’ll meet you by the door.” He watched the taller boy as he left, watching to make sure no groping hands made their way to his boy as he passed.  
  
“Hey, Mick!”  
  
He turned to the right to see who had called him. It was a co-worker of Ian’s that he recognized from a few after parties. Tony, he thought his name was. He was currently giving a lap dance, but by the looks of it, he was plenty capable of having a conversation as well.  
  
“You coming tonight?”  
  
Mickey assumed he meant the after party that Ian’s boss just invited him to. “Don’t work here,” he called over the music.  
  
Not stopping his grinding up against the customer’s crotch, Tony just smiled. “Yeah, but isn’t Ian going?”  
  
“Why do you assume I’m going just ‘cause he is?” Mickey shouted. “Like I’m some puppy?”  
  
Tony just laughed. “Nah man, puppy’s way cuter. You’re more like some scary body guard.”  
  
Whatever Mickey was going to respond with died on his lips as Ian reappeared at his side.  
  
“Ready to go?” the taller boy asked.  
  
Mickey was just nodding when an older man- fuck which of these men weren’t older- appeared suddenly, grabbing onto Ian’s wrist. “You available?” he asked, greedy look present in his eye.  
  
“He’s off duty,” Mickey cut in. “And we’re leaving.” When the man didn’t seem to respond, Mickey took a step closer. “Hey, in case you didn’t know, that means fuck off.” Not waiting for an answer, he put a firm hand on the guy’s forearm and shoved Ian away, successfully breaking the connection. On his way out, he thought he heard Tony laughing.  
  
 **the bar.**  
  
“Hey, Mick, been downstairs lately?”  
  
“I don’t care if it makes me a hypocrite, I will still bash your stupid skull in for making a gay joke. Plus, I still owe you for robbing me with my own gun,” Mickey said without looking up from where he was swirling his drink around with his little finger.  
  
Kev smiled, holding his hands up in surrender. “Really though, where is lover boy?”  
  
“For fuck sake, why does everyone suddenly assume where I go he goes and vice versa?” Mickey asked, exasperated.  
  
“You’re kidding right?”  
  
“No, I’m not kidding. We aren’t attached at the hip you know.”  
  
From beside him, one of the regulars just snorted. Shooting an incredulous look at the man, Mickey pulled out a small knife and not so subtly stabbed it between where the man’s fingers were splayed.  
  
“Something to add, buddy?”  
  
The man shook his head hastily, downing the rest of drink. Kev rolled his eyes, pulling the knife out of the table top. When Mickey reached for it, however, Kev pulled it away from him.  
  
Mickey glared at him. “Seriously? First my gun and now my knife. Jesus Christ.”  
  
At that moment, the bell tinkled and Ian came in, throwing his bag off to the side. Once he spotted Mickey, he wasted no time in sliding onto the empty stool between him and the man who had almost lost a finger. “Hey, Mick, how’s it going?” Not waiting for an answer, he reached for the knife that Kev was twirling around. “Cool knife, Kev, looks like the one Mickey almost stabbed someone with the other day.”  
  
“That would be because it _is_ the one I almost stabbed someone with the other day,” Mickey said, reaching over to pluck the weapon out of the taller boy’s hands.  
  
“Hey,” the man from Ian’s other side protested. “That was _me_ you almost stabbed the other day.  
  
Barely sparing him a glance, Mickey tipped the glass to his lips. “Twice in one week? Damn, better watch yourself. Third time’s the kill, or something like that.” Out of the corner of his eye, Mickey could see Ian smiling at him fondly like he sometimes randomly did. He’s learned to ignore it and not to indulge it.  
  
“I learned how to hide a body in class a few days ago,” Ian offered.  
  
“What did I say?” Kev proclaimed. “I knew the Milkavich would be a bad influence on the kid. Did I not say that?” the man addressed the bar goers.  
  
While the customers half-heartedly shouted their assent, Ian leaned closer to whisper in Mickey’s ear, “You should come over to mine later, and be a terrible influence there.”  
  
Mickey had to fight off the smile he felt tugging at his lips. “Maybe, we’ll see.”  
  
Ian just smiled before reaching over the bar top to grab himself a drink.  
  
 **breakfast.**  
  
“Ian! Are you and Mickey coming down for breakfast or can we have yours?” Debbie shouted up the stairs.  
  
Mickey groaned, wiping a hand over his face. “Why is your little sister assuming I’m up here with you?”  
  
Ian just snuffed, still half asleep. His breath tickled the little hairs at the nape of the smaller boy’s neck. “Probably because she saw us come in last night,” he mumbled.  
  
“What? No one was around last night, you said so.”  
  
Ian just laughed quietly. “Sorry, my senses must have been off with your hand down my pants. We weren’t really paying attention to our surroundings I suppose.”  
  
“Ian!” It was Carl yelling up at them this time.  
  
Mickey groaned, pressing his head further into the pillow. “How do you make them stop?”  
  
Ian laughed. “You can’t. They’ll either keep yelling or soon they’ll be up here jumping on the bed.”  
  
“Fuck that.”  
  
Mickey felt the bed shift as Ian got up. He opened his eyes in time to see the taller boy pull on a pair of boxers and a shirt. Making sure his eyes were closed by the time Ian turned around, Mickey had to fight the smile that threatened to show when the boy pressed a kiss to his head.  
  
“I’ll bring you back whatever they haven’t eaten yet, okay?”  
  
Mickey just grunted. “So long as it’s not covered in ketchup.”  
  
“Ketchup is great on eggs,” Ian argued.  
  
“Sure it is,” he huffed. Mickey felt Ian slap his ass before hearing his footsteps retreat down the stairs.  
  
 **the after party.**  
  
“Ian want his usual?” the bartender asked.  
  
Mickey raised his eyebrows. “What makes you think I’m not just here by myself?”  
  
The bartender just gave him an incredulous look before placing the second drink down on the counter. Mickey slapped some bills down before taking both drinks and turning to leave.  
  
“Tell him I said hi,” the bartender called after him.  
  
“Tell him yourself,” Mickey called over his shoulder.  
  
Weaving his way through the bodies, Mickey gracelessly collapsed onto the couch beside Ian. “Your drink,” he said, handing the beverage over to the boy.  
  
“Thanks, Mick.”  
  
“What’d I miss?” the shorter boy asked, taking a sip before wincing. Fucking fancy drinks.  
  
“I got three numbers, two offers for drinks, and hit on. Five times.”  
  
Fighting back the jealousy, Mickey just took another swig. “Only five? Fuck, Gallagher, you’re off your game tonight.”  
  
Ian just smiled. “Five people I considered attractive. The rest were too old.”  
  
Mickey just gave him an unimpressed look. “Never stopped you before. Wait, you thought five were attractive? Which ones?” He couldn’t stop his eyes from scanning the room for anyone below the age of forty.  
  
“Careful, your jealousy’s showing,” the taller boy said, smug smile on his lips.  
  
“Wipe that grin off your face, Firecrotch. All I’m saying is that I didn’t get beat up for coming out just so you could be so easily hit on.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” Ian said, eyebrows raised. “Why did you then?”  
  
Mickey wasn’t going to take the bait. He wasn’t. However, he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing Ian’s hand when the taller boy made to turn away. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, before saying, “I came out so I could do this.”  
  
And with that said, the shorter boy tugged Ian closer, pressing his lips insistently to his. Ian was quick to respond, snaking a hand around Mickey’s waist and sliding the other into his hair, pressing his mouth closer to his. Mickey leaned back, causing Ian to follow so the boy landed basically in his lap. The brunet chuckled making Ian bite his lip in retaliation.  
  
“Love it when you’re jealous,” Ian whispered against his lips.  
  
Mickey would argue, but he soon found his tongue otherwise occupied.  
  
 **+**  
  
He woke up to someone poking his leg. Resisting the urge to kick, Mickey just cracked an eye open. “What?” he muttered.  
  
“You guys want your usual?” the man asked.  
  
Rubbing his eyes, Mickey let out a yawn before replying. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
The man nodded before walking off to inquire about some other person’s breakfast preference. Mickey turned to see Ian sleeping peacefully beside him. Deciding the boy was definitely asleep, Mickey allowed himself to press a quick kiss to Ian’s temple before getting up in search of the bathroom.  
  
He doesn’t know when ‘we’ became a way to refer to him and Ian, doesn’t know when people started assuming that wherever he went, Ian would follow and vice versa. But he thinks he’s getting used to it.


End file.
